


Loving Las Vegas

by rapiddescent



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Fright Night (2011), Richard II - Shakespeare
Genre: Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, F/M, Group Sex, Humor, M/M, Teninchfic Fic, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-05
Updated: 2014-07-05
Packaged: 2018-02-07 14:25:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1902402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rapiddescent/pseuds/rapiddescent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>RSC!Richard II and the Tenth Doctor end up in 21st Century Las Vegas with Peter Vincent, where each competes to be the Most Fabulous Man in the Room, creating tension that can only be resolved by sexual activities.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Loving Las Vegas

**Author's Note:**

> Richard II and Aumerle in this story are the ones in the 2013 RSC production. This starts off pretty tame and silly but gets explicit at the end. There is also an explicit epilogue.

Aumerle chewed on the sticky stuff in his mouth and managed to swallow it down without any embarrassment only because he held his breath as the powdered sugar hit his lips. No one wants to inhale that stuff when his lover shoves a piece of Turkish delight in his mouth. The sneezing and wheezing and choking were most certainly not what the lover hoped to accomplish. Lemon. Richard never gave him the rose flavored ones. He always gave the nasty lemon pieces that he clearly did not like.

Richard noticed his grimace and traced the outline of sugar on Aumerle's chin with a thin white finger. The corners of Richard's lips turned up just enough that Aumerle felt certain Richard laughed at his discomfort. Richard's face moved closer as Aumerle tried to chew and swallow the confection without losing his pleasant expression. 

"You've made a mess, cousin. Let me clean you up." Richard's agile tongue probed Aumerle's face until the last trace of sugar had vanished.

The king stroked Aumerle's face with his tongue while the sweet strangled him. Aumerle couldn't breathe but felt blood rushing into his cock anyway. He struggled in the bed sheets, but Richard did not budge. He looked at Aumerle with a distant expression, tracing idle patterns in the dark, wiry hair on Aumerle's chest.

"Richard..." Aumerle coughed out at last. "Please..."

He thought at first that Richard laughed at him, but with a sound unlike anything he had heard before that gradually got louder until both men sat up and drew the coverlet around their naked skin. 

A grating "vwoorrp vwooorrrrp vwoooorrrp" sound filled the room. The tapestry around the bed blocked out most of the light, but Aumerle thought he could see around the edges of the curtain frame a light flashing faintly, then brighter, that finally settled into a regular blinking pattern. He had never heard any room as quiet as theirs was now.

Richard clutched the coverlet around him, the embroidery bright against his pale skin, and looked at Aumerle with wide eyes and open mouth. 

"Oh, King, who relies on me," thought Aumerle, but swelled at the same time with need to protect Richard. He jerked the coverlet out of Richard's hand, his sole concession to the familiar bond between them, wrapped it around his waist, parted the bed curtains and leapt out into the candlelit room.

A strange blue box stood in the corner, and the door had begun to open.

Aumerle gasped and tugged the coverlet more tightly around him. As he stepped back a pace, he heard the bed curtains rustling and Richard, wearing nothing more than his own magnificent skin and the crown, vaulted to Aumerle's side just as the blue box's door opened and a skinny, brown-suited man stepped out.

"Ahhh what a lovely time of year to be in Las..." 

"Stop! Who are you, and how did you get into my bedchamber!" demanded Richard, his voice high and fierce.

The brown-suited man's head whipped around, his eyes wide and lower lip acting like it was trying to run away from his face. 

"What?!"

Richard took several steps forward to stand with a straight back and squared shoulders between the man and Aumerle.

"You! By what art came you, unseen and unbidden, into this room?" 

The man in the brown suit turned toward them, his eyebrows knitted and silently mouthing the word "what?" Aumerle saw his eyes run up and down Richard's body, move over to him, and back to Richard again. The expression on his perplexed face read, "Oh no, not again". 

"This has happened before to him?" wondered Aumerle. The man’s clothing was strange, but Aumerle feasted on the way it hugged his angular frame— and the way it practically kissed the perfect curve of his ass— and could not take his eyes off that fluffy shock of chestnut hair that rose off his head like a cockscomb. He looked so strange, yet utterly familiar to Aumerle.

Although he was already standing at full height, Richard took a half step forward and somehow pulled himself up just a little bit more to look even taller, prouder, and more imperious, if one can actually look imperious wearing nothing more than a golden crown. It worked on Aumerle, and he hoped it would work on the stranger.

"Who are you?"

"I'm the Doctor," said the man with a huge, infectious grin, "and correct me if I'm wrong, but we must be in Fourteenth Century England and you must be King Henry IV."

"Who?" Richard was more angry than afraid now.

"Erm.." 

A pretty young woman with tousled blonde hair, a pink t-shirt and purple jacket stepped out of the blue box and into the awkward pause.

"Rose, stay there," the Doctor whispered to the girl. She did as he requested, but her eyes traveled directly to the naked men in front of her and Aumerle noticed that her eyes stopped often near the groin of his lover, the king. Aumerle could picture what she saw, and didn't blame her at all for staring.

"There's a slight chance I could be wrong," the Doctor muttered, looking sheepishly up at Richard through lowered eyes.

"I am King Richard of England. What sort of doctor are you?"

"Oh, yes, King Richard! The Third? I thought so!"

"I am the second king named Richard to rule England."

"Oh, King Richard the Second, eh?" The Doctor looked askance, his face contorted into an almost comical grimace. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry, your majesty."

Richard's impatience showed in the flushing of his cheeks and the way he swiped his long, wavy brown hair toward his back, as though a single strand in his face might dim the meaning of what he said.

"Are you a demon, delivered in a blue box by Satan? What manner of man are you?"

"I'm not a man, not a human one, anyway, and I'm not a demon, either. I'm a Time Lord, from the planet Gallifrey, and that blue box is my TARDIS."

"My lord, would you like me to call for help," Aumerle asked. Whether demon or human madman intruder, he knew they stood little chance alone.

"No, Aumerle, be still. Doctor, explain "tardis" to me. How can it get through such thick stone walls?"

"The TARDIS is my spaceship... errm.. a ship that travels across time and space instead of water. We were... Rose and I were headed for Las Vegas but the TARDIS took us here."

"A ship that travels through time."

"Yes, your majesty. We could leave right now and travel 500 years into the future and be back home in time for tea. "

"Tea?"

"Supper, then," chimed in Rose, perhaps just a little too eagerly in Richard's direction.

"Anyhow, Rose and I'll just step right back in that box now and be gone before you can even say another word. Las Vegas here we come." The Doctor turned away from Richard and directed Rose toward the TARDIS door with his hand on her back.

"STOP!" Richard shouted. Rose and the Doctor turned around.

"What is Las Vegas and why were you going there, yet ended up here!"

"Las Vegas is this big city full of casinos and shops," gushed Rose.

"Casinos?"

The Doctor answered, "They're like glittering palaces filled with games and beautiful women," then he glanced between Richard and Aumerle, and added, "and beautiful men."

"I should like to see this glittering palace. My cousin and I will accompany you to this Las Vegas."

"Oooh, nooo, you don't have to do thaaaat," said the Doctor, drawing out the vowels as long as possible and looking down at the ground.

"We have decided it and we will come. The King of Las Vegas must be very powerful and we will meet him. Aumerle, help me dress."

"No, you wouldn't want to--" the Doctor began but Rose, behind him, put her chin on his shoulder and tugged his sleeve. "But Doctor, he's the king! I've never traveled with a king before." She tilted her head to catch his eye. 

"And why would you? You've got me," he sniffed, straightening his tie. Her hair tickled his cheek and although he stared straight ahead, her lips in his peripheral vision looked plump and red. She made it hard to say no, but he hadn't caved in yet.

Aumerle, collecting garments from the various spots they had fallen in his passionate undressing of Richard, overheard the comment and peeked at the Doctor and Rose. Rose noticed the gesture and motioned toward the Doctor with her eyes, then rolled them elaborately. Aumerle hid his smile by turning his head to pick up some hose, and Rose buried her giggle in the Doctor's shoulder.

Richard stood in the same place, haughty and distant, as if oblivious to, or, more probably, proud of his nakedness. The Doctor avoided looking directly at him, but Rose did, and often. 

"We'll just wait in the box for you, then," said the Doctor.

"No. You will leave if I let you in the box. You will wait here or I will have you executed for treason. Aumerle! Hurry up! What's taking you so long?"

"My lord, you wouldn't stay in one place when we were..when we were..." Aumerle's face reddened.

"Just get over here with them, Aumerle, and put them back on me as quickly as you removed them."

Rose had never seen a man dress another man before, let alone a Duke dressing a King. They had turned away from her, and from behind she watched Aumerle roll brightly patterned wool hose up Richard's calf, then over his thigh, and finally lace it around his waist. He had already helped Richard into a kind of short linen pants, but it was a fine, sheer linen and Rose still got a splendid view of his small, perfectly round buttocks. 

"The Doctor's trousers would look great on those," thought Rose. Then came a linen undershirt and fancy blue wool shirt, then finally, a long robe made of gold damask on a blue background. It sparkled in the candlelight. 

The whole process took far longer than it should have, and now Aumerle removed the crown and had begun to comb the tangles out of Richard's long hair. He was still wrapped only in the coverlet. Richard batted Aumerle's hand away. 

"Get dressed. I can comb my own hair," he snapped.

"I can comb it for you if you like, your majesty," offered Rose. Richard seemed to really notice her for the first time. He gave her a long, hard look, seemed satisfied with what he saw, and replied, "You may do so. You may approach me now." He held out an intricately carved ivory comb, inlaid with ebony and garnets.

The Doctor glared at Richard as Rose worked gently on the tangles in Richard's lustrous hair.

************************************

The TARDIS materialized in an unused conference room somewhere on one of the middle floors of an enormous hotel. The Doctor threw the door open and stormed out.

"Out! Out the lot of you!" His eyebrows sunk menacingly and his eyes burned. 

"But Doctor, shouldn't we check to make sure it's safe first?" asked Rose.

"Rose, have I ever told you to get out of the TARDIS when it was less than perfectly safe?" 

"Ha! I'd laugh right in your face if you weren't being so rude right now," huffed Rose. 

The Doctor had been snippy ever since she combed Richard's hair. Richard was tall and handsome, like the Doctor, but more willowy. His hair was soft and perfumed with flowers. She loved running her fingers through it, and tiny signs on his face told Rose that Richard had enjoyed it, too. In the minor intimacy of combing his hair, Rose learned how much Richard longed for touch, and she enjoyed being the one to give him that pleasure. The trip in the TARDIS had been uncomfortable.

"Come on, Aumerle, welcome to the 21st Century."

Aumerle stepped out of the TARDIS, careful to maintain his noble bearing while sticking as closely to Rose as possible. "I'm not exactly afraid," he reassured himself. "It's just safer with someone who knows this place." 

The TARDIS stood toward the center-rear of a large carpeted room filled with chairs stacked upon each other. The lights were off and it was quiet, but he could hear the hum of activity outside, and the Doctor's footsteps as he felt around the wall.

"Aha! There's the switch!"

The room instantly flooded with light and Aumerle recoiled. 

"Don't worry. It's called 'electricity' and we use it all the time. It's perfectly safe," Rose calmed him.

Richard had been sulking around the TARDIS console but came to the door when he saw the light. He looked out the door and his face shone with wonder.

"Aumerle," he called in a voice that, though gentle, conveyed the force of a command. Aumerle scurried back to the TARDIS and attended Richard's entrance into the room. Richard lifted his head with a gasp toward the two crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. 

"It glitters, just as you said, Doctor!" He lifted the crown and held it up to the light. He had never seen it sparkle so unless he had been outside, in the sun.

Aumerle watched, attentive to signs and signals from Richard, but his eyes strayed toward the Doctor. The Doctor had darker, shorter hair but the suit hugged every curve and angle of his body and when he peeled the suit away in his mind, Aumerle imagined the body would look like Richard's. Like Richard, the Doctor had a shapely nose, strong jaw line, delicate cheekbones and remarkably flexible lips that had made Aumerle shiver every time the Doctor spoke to him in the TARDIS. He had a lower voice than Richard, but certain words fell out of their mouths the exact same way.

"Oh, don't mind me! It's not like I know what I'm talking about or anything," condescended the Doctor.

Richard replaced the crown on his head strode across the room to face the Doctor. "Doctor, you call yourself a Time Lord, and you may have a device that can take us through time, but do not forget that there is no lord higher than an anointed king."

"Riiiiight. Richard," said the Doctor, emphasizing the name and looking Richard straight in the eye. 

Richard's jaw clenched and his mouth twisted. He took a half step forward and began to raise his hand toward the Doctor's tie.

"Your Majesty!" Rose raced to his side and took the hand that was not raised. "You haven't seen the rest of the palace yet," she said sweetly.

Aumerle clapped the back of his hand to his terrified mouth. 

"Rose, don't tou---" he started, but to his surprise, Richard softened a little and looked at Rose. 

Rose put her arm around Richard's waist and he allowed her to draw him away from the Doctor.

"Let's go see what's out there." She clasped his hand in both of hers and led him toward the door, shooting a glance over her shoulder at the Doctor that said, "Shut up."

Aumerle, with years of practice at smoothing ruffled feathers, glided to the Doctor's side and made a courtly gesture toward the door.  
"Shall we, Doctor?"

Without saying a word the Doctor followed Richard and Rose, Aumerle close enough at his side for their shoulders to touch every now and then, sending a sensation like a million tiny pins into Aumerle's flesh. He began to occasionally brush against the Doctor's arm on purpose.

Rose shifted to her usual position at the Doctor’s side, and Aumerle, to his at Richard’s. In Las Vegas, the sight of a middle aged man in a suit with a beautiful young blonde on his arm drew no attention, but a long-haired man wearing a crown and a gold brocade robe was another matter.

“Hey, it’s that guy from the Tournament of Kings show we saw last night at the Excalibur!” a tourist in khaki shorts and a t-shirt that read, “I can’t believe I ate the whole thing!” mumbled to his friend as the group waited at the elevator. The friend looked impressed and pulled a piece of paper—a receipt from one of the hotel shops—and a pen from his pocket and shoved it at Richard.

“Dude, I loved the show. You were my favorite part. Can I have your autograph?”

Richard took a full, horrified step backward and Aumerle positioned himself between the offender and his king.

“Oh I get it. You’re already in costume and in character. That's cool, bro! But can I have your autograph anyway?” He held the paper steadily up to Richard’s chest. 

“He wants you to write your name on that piece of paper with the pen,” explained the Doctor. “Curious human custom, autographs. Worse than ever since they invented ballpoint pens.” He pondered this, staring off into space.

Richard took the pen gingerly, like a giant insect that might sting him at any moment, and positioned it awkwardly in his fingers. He pressed it to the paper and grinned with delight when the ink flowed as if from nowhere and formed an elaborate “R”. By the time he got to “C” he had gotten the hang of it, and finished his name with a curlicue. He handed the pen to Aumerle, who tucked it into his belt. The tourists looked at him incredulously. 

"You may go," Richard dismissed them with a cold, distant voice. 

"Uh, OK, later, dude," said the guy in the khaki shorts, and they left.

Rose had to turn her back and pretend to be fixing a smear in her mascara to hide the silent laughter that shook her whole body.

When the elevator arrived the little group piled in. 

"Which floor?" the Doctor asked Rose.

"The top! I want to get a view of the whole city. I bet it's incredible."

"Doctor, I want to be taken to meet the King of Las Vegas," Richard reminded him.

"Well, Richard, I'm not going to be able to do that for you." The Doctor pressed the button for the highest floor.

"You mean you refuse?" Richard sounded indignant.

"No, I am not going to do it because Las Vegas does not have a king. This might come as a surprise to you, King, but ordinary people can rule themselves without kings and their minions." Aumerle squirmed a little at that last comment.

Richard scoffed loudly. "Doctor, do not presume to lecture me, a king appointed by God, about rule. Without a king, there can be no order, no justice, and no prosperity. Las Vegas has a king. You will see."

The elevator arrived at the top floor and a sign near the door pointed toward the Skyview Lounge. It had a picture of a gold-trimmed china plate holding a steak, dripping with juices, and a baked potato. A glass half filled with red wine stood next to it. At the sight of it, Rose's stomach growled loudly enough for the Doctor to hear.

Rose and the Doctor looked at each other and chuckled. The Doctor held out his arm grandly, Rose took it happily, and they skipped toward the restaurant. Richard and Aumerle followed at a more stately pace.

The restaurant had glass walls and the vast expanse of lights in the night below sparkled like sun on the ocean. Richard and Aumerle inhaled audibly and stood very close together, mouths open with awe. Rose moved to Richard's side and squeezed his hand. 

"It's breathtaking, isn't it," she said softly. Rose didn't notice that Aumerle had taken Richard's other hand, and that the three of them gazed out the window as one while the Doctor spoke to the hostess. Richard's hand felt soft but surprisingly strong in hers, and he rubbed her palm gently with his thumb. Rose felt like her hand was melting into Richard's, and she did not want it to stop.

The hostess led them toward a table for four, but on the way they passed a semi-private room in which a large, rowdy group sat at a candlelit table with many empty bottles of wine. At the head of the table sprawled a man dressed entirely in black leather, save his chest, which was covered only by a large gold crucifix. He had long black hair, sideburns, moustache and a goatee, and he sprawled magnificently in his chair. He waved a waitress away with a flick of his wrist and a bored face, the heavy rings on his fingers clacking together, and everyone at his table noticed and appreciated the gesture. He said something, and his entourage laughed obediently.

"Stop!" ordered Richard. "Doctor, you were wrong. We have found the King of Las Vegas."

Richard pushed to the front of the group and barged forward, Aumerle scrambling to keep up. Richard paused briefly at the entrance to the room, and Rose and the Doctor caught up. Aumerle looked helplessly at the Doctor, who shook his head mouthed the word, "No!". Richard tossed his head toward the room and said impatiently to Aumerle, "Go on." 

Rose saw Aumerle's shoulders droop and she heard a tiny sigh before he drew a deep breath, pulled himself straight, and entered the room.

"Your majesty, my lords," he paused dramatically, "Richard of Bordeaux, King of England." He pronounced it with such grandeur that Rose could almost hear trumpet fanfare. The Doctor crossed his arms and made a disgusted sound.

Richard paraded into the room, head high and chin slightly raised, long hair shimmering down his back, his face, beatific.

"Who the FUCK are you?" shouted Peter Vincent.

"I've already told you who I am. I am Richard, King of England. Who are you?"

"Ooh, well la di da! If you're the king of England then I'm Peter Vincent, the King of Las Vegas!"

Richard looked triumphantly at the Doctor, who rolled his eyes.

"We see all sorts around here but gold nail polish to match the crown is really a bit much, don't you think? Who even lets you out of the house like that?" Aumerle felt awkward and didn't know if he should defend his king or stay silent.

Furious, Richard marched over to face Peter. "You paint your eyes like a whore. Your nails are black, no doubt to match your conscience."

"Hee!" Peter's head bobbled a little with the effort of the high-pitched sound and a huge, sloppy grin spread over Peter's face. Rose and the Doctor giggled uncontrollably. 

"And who the hell are you?" Peter asked.

"I'm the Doctor and this is my friend, Rose Tyler."

Peter laughed. "Oh, so we've got 'the King' and 'the Doctor'. Doctor of what? Douchebaggery? Or maybe, douchebuggery?" Peter laughed at his own pun, and so did his entourage.

"I'm just the Doctor and you're just rude."

"Oh, ruuude, am I? How about Dr. Douche and King Goldilocks over there interrupting my dinner?"

Rose stifled her laughter. Aside from the eyeliner, tattoos and facial hair, Peter looked like a carbon copy of Richard and the Doctor. Traveling with the Doctor, Rose had seen many bizarre things, but this had no precedent.

"Your comments, sir, are treason," sniffed Richard.

Peter paused for a moment, uncertain whether Richard meant it in earnest, then issued another high-pitched laugh and clapped Richard on the back.

"You're too much, you know that?" He turned toward his table. "All right, dinner's over!" he commanded, directing his followers to leave with a wave of his hand.

As the room emptied, Rose whispered to the Doctor, "Have you noticed how much Peter and Richard look like you?"

"Ah, go on, Rose! Look at him! He's got greasy hair and this tacky goatee that hasn't been really stylish for years now. And Richard..like I would ever wear a gold brocade robe and walk around in slippers. They're both so pompous. No, we are nothing alike, them and me." He fluffed his hair and smoothed his jacket with a little sniff and twitch of his lips. Rose just raised her eyebrows and looked away.

"You lot amuse me. How about we continue this charming conversation, if you can call it that, over some drinks in my room?" Peter offered.

"I'd love that!" answered Rose quickly. The Doctor scowled at her.

"Right this way then, gentlemen," said Peter in a smarmy voice, "and Lady Rose." He bowed slightly as she passed and, taking her hand, raised the back of it to his lips. Rose enjoyed the attention, even though she knew Peter meant it in jest. 

"Come on, Rose," said the Doctor, taking her roughly by the other hand.

The Doctor and Rose trailed behind the rest of the party as they followed Peter down the hall.

"What are you doing, Rose?"

"What do you mean, what am I doing? I'm having fun. An adventure. Isn't this better than fighting Daleks or something?" 

"With Daleks at least we know who our enemy is."

"Does there always have to be an enemy, Doctor? Do we even have one here?"

"I don't like Peter and King Richard..."

"Richard what?"

"Is too friendly...to you."

"Oh, is that what this is about, Doctor, because I don't think you have any right to complain. If you think and I are still 'just friends' I see no reason why I can't also be 'just friends' with Richard. Or do you want to control who I can be friends with?"

"Of course not. It's just that--"

"It's just that you're jealous," Rose interrupted, "and frankly, you have no right to be."

She pulled away from the Doctor and caught up with the rest of the group, squeezing between Richard and Aumerle to hold their hands.

The Doctor entered Peter's penthouse suite in a foul mood that lightened only slightly after room service delivered food and several bottles of champagne. They sat on long couch that curved around a coffee table, from which they ate. 

Peter's long hair and goatee turned out to be fake and Rose commented how much he resembled the Doctor. "Fuck off! I'm nothing like Dr. Douchebuggery," he scoffed. The Doctor bristled at the insult, but felt vindicated, too. He had to admit that Peter had a sort of brash, rude charm that appealed to him in spite of himself. 

"He's like a crass Jack Harkness," he thought.

They finished the champagne and the food and lounged comfortably while Peter brought more liquor back from the bar. Aumerle and the Doctor declined, but Richard and Rose accepted a glass of it. Rose leaned against Richard and across the table, the Doctor sat between Peter and Aumerle, who pressed perhaps just a little too closely against the Doctor.

Aumerle considered moving closer to Richard, but Richard's head bent toward a strand of Rose's hair, which he twisted between his long fingers into a fine, perfect braid, oblivious to Aumerle. Aumerle had only seen Richard play with Bagot's long, black hair before, and felt unreasonably surprised seeing him do it to a woman. Did he do that with the Queen, too? He felt vaguely amused that he registered merely surprise, not jealousy. 

But then, he had never had Richard all to himself. He had always shared Richard with others, not always in the same bed, but the King belonged to no one. No matter how much it had hurt at first, Aumerle learned that he possessed Richard only in fragments, in moments borrowed from someone else, and loved him more sweetly for it. He toyed with the empty glass in his hand and let his thigh fall against the Doctor's thigh. The shape of the Doctor's thigh through the brown suit fabric, the swell of his chest as he breathed, and the curve of his throat could easily pass for Richard's. The timbre of the Doctor's voice recalled Richard's. Sitting so close to him, Aumerle recognized a faint, woodsy personal scent almost identical to his lover's.

Peter Vincent swaggered, or possibly staggered, Aumerle couldn't tell for sure, back from the bar with a another bottle of Midori and collapsed into the sofa, his naked torso and leather pants uncomfortably near to Aumerle. He filled his glass entirely too full and sank backwards into the cushions, holding the glass high with his left hand and grabbing the collar of Aumerle's robe with his right. 

"You and this fucking sad green bathrobe."

He tugged hard on the robe, jerking Aumerle's face close to his. Sunk in a setting of eyeliner, Peter's irises glittered like the topaz in Richard's crown. Up close, Aumerle could not tell the difference between those eyes and Richard's, or that nose and Richard's, or the mouth. Peter offended him, assaulted him and generally repulsed him, but his body responded in spite of himself. Aumerle's lips felt thick and his cock stiffened.

"It's hideous. Don't you ever take it off?" Peter yanked the lapel with little effect, so he set the glass down, sloshing half of it onto the tabletop, took the other lapel, and tore the robe off Aumerle in a single, fluid motion. Peter looked a bit disappointed to find that underneath, Aumerle wore a knitted shirt. The shirt clung to his shapely muscles, but Peter did not want to see that.

He reclined against the sofa's arm while holding Aumerle by a fistful of shirt and reached for the Midori bottle with the other. He filled a large scar on his abdomen right next to his hipbone with Midori and pulled Aumerle down.

"Lick it."

Aumerle wanted to protest, recoiled inwardly, and recognized the shape of Richard's navel and pattern of his chest hair on Peter all at once. Had he also drunk too much? He no longer felt certain whose body he saw. The blood beat in his temples and he ached with a longing that only compliance to Peter's direction would assuage.

Peter lay still so the liquor did not spill and Aumerle did not resist as Peter pushed his head down. Aumerle extended his tongue and lapped at the sweet, green fluid kittenishly at first, his hunger increasing with each taste.

Aumerle found himself unfastening Peter's pants and pulling at the waistband. Peter raised his hips slightly so Aumerle could pull them down to liberate his ready cock. Aumerle took it immediately in his mouth. It filled his mouth uncomfortably at first, but as he opened his throat to it, pleasantly. Peter lay languidly, head tossed back over the sofa arm, permitting Aumerle to swallow his cock until he writhed and came hard in Aumerle's mouth. 

Aumerle glanced over at Richard as he swallowed.

Richard had pushed Rose's hair aside and kissed the nape of her neck. Rose nestled with her back against Richard, who could not see the look of pleasure that showed even through her closed eyes. His skinny body and his lips felt exactly how she imagined the Doctor's would feel, if he would ever let her. His fingers had moved nimbly and strongly in her hair, just as the Doctor's did when he held her hand. Rose leaned more deeply into Richard's chest and tilted her head back to look up at his face. The chiseled jaw, the lips, the stately nose could easily have been the Doctor's instead. 

She lifted her hands to his cheeks and stroked them. He seemed a little surprised, but pleased at the same time, and he allowed her to lower his face to her lips. Rose pressed Richard's lips to her own with a fierceness belied by the gentle manner of her movement. She inhaled his breath and sucked on his expressive lower lip. Richard pressed back and her own lips parted wider until they kissed with mouths fully open. Rose slipped her tongue into his mouth, and he did the same. Her nipples tingled, and the feeling shot directly between her legs.

The Doctor made a disgusted sound. Peter's body exerted a magnetic field on Aumerle, who found it hard to tear himself away from the intoxicating afterglow of an act he longed to perform for Richard, but he alerted to the Doctor's voice and sat halfway up to listen. The Doctor's lips curled downward and his eyebrows knitted together over his nose. His brown eyes chastised Aumerle in a way that made him feel completely home and at ease. He knew this look well.

"Would you two please just stop it? Or get a room already."

Aumerle couldn't help but look pointedly over at Rose so that the Doctor would look, too, and he smiled at the Doctor's reaction. Rose's kiss with Richard had progressed. Richard now cradled her in one arm and caressed one of her breasts under her shirt with the other hand while they kissed. Rose breathed rapidly and moved her hips. Her legs parted even as the Doctor watched. The Doctor tried to keep a bland face, but Aumerle felt his leg tense and saw one hand clench into a fist.

"Oh, come on people! Really? There's nothing but fun and games in this city and you do this?"

Peter stood and turned toward the bar to get more ice without bothering to fasten his pants. "This is what we do in this city, Doctor," he said over his shoulder.

The Doctor kept looking over at Richard, who had lifted Rose's t-shirt and, though momentarily baffled by her bra, opened it with nimble fingers in record time, and the Doctor had to watch as her breasts spilled out of it and into Richard's hands. Aumerle slipped his hand into the Doctor's as Richard's lips closed around one of her nipples, that stood erect against small, light pink areolas.

"Look over here, Doctor," he purred, knowing the Doctor would look anywhere rather than at Rose right now. He looked helplessly at Aumerle.

"Your TARDIS is far away, and there's no need to rush back." Aumerle settled himself just far enough from the Doctor that he wasn't intruding, but close enough for their hips to touch while he held the Doctor's hand. Peter had returned and filled their glasses with ice and booze, casting curious glances at Aumerle and the Doctor all the while. 

The Doctor continued to look at Aumerle so he wouldn't have to look at Rose, and Aumerle drew him closer, till only the distance of puckered lips separated their faces.

"I never imagined that time, of all things, would be of essence to you, Doctor," he smirked. It took a minute for Aumerle's comment to sink in, disarming the Doctor. Aumerle leaned and planted his lips on the Doctor's. He felt the Doctor begin to shrink away, but persisted and felt the Doctor's mouth yield slightly to his.

"Aumerle, I'm not.. .I'm not..."

"You're not what, Doctor." Aumerle covered the Doctor's torso with his own, his face right up against the Doctor's.

"I'm not.." Aumerle stopped him with his mouth, then said, "Yes, you are, Doctor, you know you are, for now, at least." He straddled the Doctor and pushed him back against the couch. The Doctor looked strangely relieved, and relaxed into the cushions.

Aumerle fixed his mouth on the Doctor's while he unbuttoned his jacket and ran his hand along his torso. Hesitantly at first, the Doctor met Aumerle's kisses until they devoured each other. Aumerle pulled himself over the Doctor by the lapels of the Doctor's jacket until he straddled the seated Time Lord and withdrew his kiss. The Doctor turned a confused and desperate face up to Aumerle's.

Aumerle pretended not to notice the Doctor while he unbuttoned his shirt.

"Is there something you want to tell me, Doctor?" he asked.

"No, not really, I just... I.."

"You what, Doctor," Aumerle now sat on his knees over the Doctor's lap. His hands hung at his side and he simply grinned at the Doctor.

"I liked that more than I thought I would," said the Doctor in a small voice.

"Of course you did," whispered Aumerle, bringing his face back down to the Doctor's and his hands lower down. "I know what you like." He removed his own shirt and pants.

Aumerle met the Doctor's mouth with his again and fumbled at the waistband of his pants. He unfastened the button and the zipper and pulled the pants down until the Doctor raised his hips to help him lower them. Aumerle found the Doctor's cock and stroked it gently during his kiss. He spit in his palm and moistened his own cock with it then lowered himself onto the Doctor's rigid penis.

Peter Vincent sipped his drink and watched. To his right, Aumerle held the Doctor still as he teased the opening of his ass with the head of the Doctor's cock. Across the coffee table, Rose (or Richard, he hadn't paid attention and couldn't tell for sure) had undone her jeans and Richard's fingers burrowed deeply between her legs. Her shirt was gone altogether and Richard bit her nipples while she writhed around on his hand. He wasn't sure if the Doctor could hear it right now, but Richard touched Rose in a way that made her plead for more. 

Peter heard a low grunt to his right. Aumerle sat on the Doctor's lap, legs crossed around his back while the Doctor thrust into him. Neither pair knew he watched, neither cared. He hadn't really thought so before, but in this context, he had to admit the Doctor's face quite resembled his own. This aroused him. He ran his fingers through the Doctor's hair and admired his profile, contorted with exertion in such a familiar way. He kissed the Doctor's cheek and let his lips travel over his jaw and linger on pulse of his throat, kissing it, and the Doctor tilted his head, inviting Peter to consume the long curve with his mouth. 

Rose stopped Richard's hand and sat up. Looking into his large brown eyes, she fondled his cock. "Stop. This is what I want," she murmured.

Richard stood and removed his robes in a graceful, unhurried manner that displayed either nobility or simple inexperience at undressing himself, and made Rose impatient. It did not take long, but felt like forever and while she waited, she looked over at the threesome on the other side of the sofa. Aumerle rode the Doctor while Peter rubbed Aumerle's cock and kissed and nipped at the Doctor's throat. 

The strangeness of the situation did not register at first because it turned her on even more. She trailed one finger idly over her drenched inner labia and watched until Richard knelt back onto the sofa and she reclined to receive him. He took her in his arms and thrust inside. She came quickly, but Richard gave her only a moment of respite before fucking her even harder, giving her another, even bigger orgasm and then Richard came, too, and collapsed onto the sofa beside her.

She realized it had grown quiet on the other side of the sofa. 

The Doctor, Aumerle and Peter had finished and sat with the Doctor in the middle, Peter and Aumerle kissing him by turns while he accepted their admiration. She never thought she'd see the Doctor, her Doctor, like that. She never thought she would have had sex with a Medieval king who looked just like the Doctor, either, and felt a pang of loneliness. She missed him. Taking Richard by the hand, she walked over to the threesome and squeezed between Peter and the Doctor. 

"Hi," she said, putting her arms loosely around his neck. 

"Hello, Rose Tyler," he crooned, and kissed her tenderly on the lips.

Richard sat next to Aumerle, who lay his head on his chest while Richard embraced him.

"Jesus fucking Christ, people!" scoffed Peter, rising to leave the mawkish scene. Rose grabbed his wrist. Moving aside, she sat him down again next to the Doctor.

As if sharing the same thought, Aumerle also shifted so that Richard now sat on the Doctor's other side. Rose left the sofa, knelt on the floor in front of the Doctor, and raised herself on her knees to lock her lips on his, teasing his tongue with hers, while he did the same to her. When Rose's mouth eventually left the Doctor's she placed her hands on Richard's face and brought it closer to hers. She kissed him, then the Doctor, then Peter. Richard looked deeply into the Doctor's eyes, so very like his own, and kissed him full on the mouth while Peter nibbled at his earlobe. Carefully, Rose backed away and snuggled next to Aumerle. Aumerle wrapped her in his arms while they watched their lovers and Peter discover each other with their mouths, hands and cocks.

***********

EPILOGUE 1

Aumerle curled around Richard as they lay on their sides in Richard's bed, stroking Richard's hair as they drifted off to sleep.  


"You know, I think the Doctor might have been right about Peter Vincent," Richard said slowly, eyes closing with sleep. "I think he might not have been a king at all."

"I don't think so, either," whispered Aumerle, kissing the top of Richard's head. "But I sure hope we see the Doctor again."

***********

Epilogue 2

"You're a sight for sore eyes!" Rose squeals and presses her cheek against the TARDIS door, arms spread wide, hugging it as best she can. The Doctor rests his hand on the small of her back, his fingers grazing the top of her buns over her jeans, and slides the key into the lock, next to her waist. 

"It's good to be home," she sighs, sitting on the TARDIS console. Saying it, Rose realizes for the first time how true the words are. After any adventure with the Doctor, returning to the TARDIS always feels like coming home. The Doctor twiddles some controls and the TARDIS wheezes and grinds to life. She removes her purple jacket, hangs it on a lever, and rolls her head, rubbing her neck at the same time. 

The Doctor nudges Rose's right leg aside just enough to for him to squeeze between her legs and stand with his face close to hers. She looks happy but faint shadows under her eyes show that she needs to rest. He rubs the muscles from her neck to her shoulders and presses his forehead to hers, then takes her right hand in his.

"Come on." 

He leads her to the spa room, where a large hot tub bubbles and steams.

"Great idea, Doctor," Rose smiles. She undoes his tie and opens the brown jacket before unbuttoning his shirt. She trails a finger down his chest, over his stomach, and hooks it in the waistband of his pants, pulling him to her and kissing his mouth. He shrugs off the jacket and shirt and unfastens his pants while Rose undresses, too.

The Doctor plunges into the scalding water but Rose inches in by degrees. The Doctor enjoys watching her eyes squinch and hearing her little squeal every time a fresh patch of skin touches the water. When at last she sits, the Doctor moves her closer. He turns her back to him and begins to knead the muscles in her back.

"Mmmm.... " she purrs. "That feels good."

She relaxes under his hands for a moment, but they cannot rub out a nagging sense that she needs to say something.

"Doctor... What we did back there. In the hotel. In Las Vegas.... I hope you don't--"

"Rose, I'm sorry. You were right. I was jealous and I know I have no reason to be. I should never have doubted your love." 

He pushes her hair aside and kisses the nape of her neck once, his lips hovering over the spot. His warm breath tickles her before he kisses her again. She shivers, even though the water feels quite hot.

"Have you ever done... that sort of thing... before?"

"I've lived for a long time, Rose. I've done a lot of things that you might think are strange. That, by far, is not the strangest. Besides, it was more fun than I thought it would be."

"So you're not upset, then?"

"The only thing that upsets me is I did not get to be with the one I wanted the most," the Doctor says and kisses a tender spot near the base of Rose's ear. 

She wants to respond to his comment, but all that comes out is a soft and low sound in her throat. She tilts her head so the Doctor can nibble down the length of her neck. He runs his palms over her nipples, which rise to meet his touch. He rolls them between his fingers while biting harder on her neck. Rose's mouth opens and her she moans a little with each exhalation. 

She wants him to continue, but needs his mouth on hers more than she even needs breath itself, so she stops his hands and turns to face him with her back against the side of the tub. She cups his buttocks and brings him close, then worms her fingers into the hair on the back of his head and presses his mouth to hers. Their tongues meet as they taste each other.

The Doctor lifts Rose slightly, helped by the buoyant water, and runs two fingers along her pussy, finding it even slicker than the water. Rose rocks her hips and wraps her legs around his waist.

"Fuck me," she whispers in his ear.

He guides his cock into her pussy and a guttural sound somewhere between a growl and sigh of relief escapes Rose's lips.

"Uunnnhhh...."

He thrusts into her, pressing her by the shoulders onto his cock so she doesn't float up. He fucks her slowly, almost gingerly at first, sucking her nipples and teasing her until she squirms with frustration and finally groans, "Fuck me harder, Doctor. Fuck me properly."

He holds her by the hips while she grasps the side of the tub and pounds. Her head lolls over the edge of the tub and her breasts bounce in the water. His cock moves like a living creature inside her, alert and intelligent, with a will of its own, its sole purpose, to increase the urgency of her cries and the tightness that begins to spread from her pussy and up through her abdomen until she feels that her chest will explode. She pants wildly, and starts to lose her grip on the sides of the tub. The Doctor traces the outline of her clit and Rose comes loudly. She comes again when she feels the Doctor's cock tighten and spasm and sees his own orgasm thick upon his face.

Afterwards, they towel off and head toward the bedroom. The Doctor winks at Rose.

"We should take baths like that more often."


End file.
